


The Night Before

by LordValeryMimes



Category: Red Dwarf
Genre: M/M, red dwarf xi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-08
Updated: 2018-02-08
Packaged: 2019-03-15 03:48:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13604898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LordValeryMimes/pseuds/LordValeryMimes
Summary: Can Lister & Rimmer handle the truth of what really happened to them during Lister's drunken birthday festivities?A remix of my lovely space wife cazflibs The Morning After for the 2018 Red Dwarf Fic Remix Fest.





	The Night Before

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cazflibs](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cazflibs/gifts).
  * Inspired by [The Morning After](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11940951) by [cazflibs](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cazflibs/pseuds/cazflibs). 



Lister lay still as he waited for the pin to drop, a smirk playing about his lips as Rimmer looked around the room blearily. Although he couldn't remember anything about the night before, he was certain that the hologram’s reaction to their both being appropriately attired in their birthday suits would be more than entertaining enough to make up for the lapse in memory.

It didn’t take long for the slightly-crossed hazel eyes to creep their way around to the other end of the duvet where they suddenly snapped into focus. Lister did his best to suppress a snicker as the hologram’s mouth fell open in a perfect “o” of surprise at the exact same moment his eyes began to bug out of his head. “Morning, Rimsy,” Lister purred as Rimmer scrabbled to cover himself like a mad badger caught in a bin.

“Lister?! What the smeg are you doing in my bunk with me?!”

“This is MY bunk, Rimmer.”

“What?” Rimmer craned his head around and cringed at the zero-gee paraphernalia and familiar photographs. “Why am I up here? What’s happened? What…” The hologram's voice petered off as he scrunched up his face in pain. “Oh my smegging head.” He pulled the duvet towards him as he grasped his head with both hands.

“Oi!” Lister shouted as he grabbed at the edge of the duvet and tugged it back over his nearly exposed love tackle.

“Oh my God,” Rimmer blurted from across the bunk. “You’re naked aren't you?”

“You’re one to talk,” Lister retorted as he gestured pointedly to the hologram's very nude, protruding shoulders.

“Does that mean that we… did… did we…?”

“So you can't remember anything either?”

“The last thing that I remember is that horrible GELF chap shoving some vile concoction into my hand. And telling me to ‘Hatuk virak!’ which I had assumed meant, ‘bottoms up!’ Perhaps it actually was GELF for, ‘This stuff will smegging kill you’.”

“That would’ve been the Gelf-berry wine.” Lister groaned. “Man, me head’s bangin’. Call Krytes up on the vid screen would you?”  Rimmer turned carefully, clutching the duvet to his chest as he fumbled with the touch screen. Suddenly the mechanoid’s head came into view, nearly obscured by two trays laden with slices of toast and rashers of bacon.

“Everything all right, Mr Lister sir?”

“Could you do us a favor man, and bring us some of that hangover cure you made the last time?”

“Certainly, sir. Just give me a moment and I’ll whip some up in a jiffy!” Kryten responded cheerfully as Hogey, Jesus and a large BEGG came at him from all sides and snagged the last pieces of bacon.

The unmistakably smarmy voice of Butler suddenly cut through the background din of breakfasting. “If it’s a hangover cure you’re looking for, I have several well-proven remedies that I could come by and show you. Did you know that the Chinese believed that by strengthening the chi to a certain level one could avoid hangovers entirely? Ekwahecktay? Could you do a demonstration of that technique I showed you?” The toast on Kryten’s tray began to vibrate with fury as Butler slid his way into view.

“Thank you, Butler, but I am more than capable of taking care of Mr Lister by myself!” A tower of toast crumbled as Kryten angrily leaned in to switch off the vid screen.

Rimmer settled back into the bunk, his eyes zigzagging around the room as he tried to look everywhere but at the nude man whose bunk he happened to be in. Lister finally decided to break the awkward silence.

“So what d’ya think happened last night?”

“Well it seems fairly obvious, doesn’t it? I certainly remember what happened the last time you woke up cuddled in bed with someone. My god… you don’t think that I’d be able to get you pregnant do you?!”

“Rimmer!”

“Well it seems a logical thing to worry about, seeing as we probably spent all night knocking boots with an audience of genetic mutants, mad droids and the son of God looking on.” Rimmer jabbed his thumb pointedly at the now-blank vid screen.

“We’re not wearing any boots, and he’s not the REAL Jesus, remember?”

“I’m being serious, Lister! You might think this is funny, but I have a duty to fulfill now. If you’ve joined the pudding club, I’ll not let you go it alone, Listy. I’ll be there for you no matter what.”

Lister raised a bemused eyebrow as the hologram continued.

“Maybe we had a night of unfettered passion, but I won’t let that stand in the way of my responsibilities. If I’ve gone and gotten you up the duff, I’ll do right by you, Listy. I promise.”

“Rimmer man, you don’t…”

“I know what you’re going to say, Lister.” Rimmer interrupted. “That I don’t need to do anything, that you can take care of yourself. But this is one hologram who doesn’t run from his mistakes. Sure maybe we ought not to have thrown caution to the wind and spent the whole evening rutting together like animals, living out all of our most depraved and salacious sexual fantasies with one another…”

As the hologram continued on obliviously in his speech, Lister’s face struggled to settle into an emotion as it waffled between amusement and disbelief.  

“Maybe it was a mistake that we finally gave in to temptation and tore one another’s clothes off and humped ourselves silly until we brought each other to a plane of unspeakable ecstasy with our lips and tongues, but I won’t shirk my duties, Listy. Not me.”

“Rimmer, man. Even if I could get pregnant in this universe, you’re a hologram. Your swimmers can’t even dog paddle.”

Rimmer lifted a finger in protest that slowly wilted as the wisdom of Lister’s words sank in. “Ah…”

Kryten suddenly came through the door with two glasses of some dark brown, vile looking sludge. “Here you are, sirs. I thought Mr Rimmer could use some as well.”

“Coffee, with tabasco sauce, and blackcurrant Ribena? I don’t think so.” Rimmer grimaced as he retreated back under the duvet.

“Wha’? Me gran used to always give me Ribena,” Lister replied as he grabbed a glass from Kryten and took a hearty swig. “Cheers, Krytes. That hits the spot.”

“It’ll have you feeling like your old self in no time. I’m sure you need it, especially after last night.”

“Yeah, about that, Krytes. Exactly what happened?”

“Well I already told you, sir. You invited everyone over for your birthday and there was much merriment.”

“But what happened, HERE?” Lister swirled his finger pointedly over the bunk. “What did that BEGG mean when he talked about the ‘performance being to his satisfaction’? What performance was he talking about?”

“Oh my god,” Rimmer mumbled from under the duvet. “It’s my worst nightmare; having sex while a group of onlookers jeer and point fingers at me.”

“Oh I forgot about that part, sir.” Kryten replied cheerfully. “You see, you had told everyone that there would be live entertainment, so we set up a karaoke stage.”

“Karaoke?” Lister replied in disbelief. “Are you serious?”

“Yes, sir. You and Mr Rimmer performed a duet. It was a rousing success!”

“A duet? Me and Rimmer?”

“Absolutely sir, and it went over rather well! Although you did have a difficult time settling on a song you both knew, and both were willing to sing.”

“And what exactly did we settle on?”

“I’ve Got You, Babe, by Sonny and Cher.”

“That’s preposterous!” Rimmer’s embarrassment was palpable, even through the muffled filter of the duvet. “I don’t know that song at all! Not a word!”

“Alright, so we sang a song together. How exactly did that lead to us… bein’ in bed together?” Lister felt the hologram squirm under the covers.

“I was getting to that, sir. For the big finish Mr Rimmer decided it would be a good idea to sweep you up into his arms, but you both wound up falling into the table with the cocktails. You were both drenched in Gelf-berry wine, so I suggested you both climb into your bunks to keep warm while I ran your things through the laundry.”

“Why didn't we just change into something else?”

“I did mention that at the time, sir. But you were both very insistent that you couldn't wear anything but the special outfits you’d changed into for the karaoke number.”

“Please, Krytes… don’t tell me anymore,” Lister groaned as he sipped at his coffee and Ribena, But Kryten had already leaned down to the lower bunk and happily brandished the two most garish 1970s costumes Lister had ever seen. He rubbed a hand over the scruff on his chin as he took in the near lethal levels of orange fringe and brown suede. “I’ve just got to ask you one thing. Was I Sonny, or was I Cher?”

“Sonny, sir. Mr Rimmer insisted that he needed to be Cher because he, and I quote, 'had the height for it’.”

“Well that explains this then,” Rimmer muttered as he emerged from the blankets, a bedraggled long black wig clutched in his fingers.

“Why the smeg did Rimmer wind up in my bunk though?”

“He thought it would be best if you were close together for the encore performance, otherwise the harmonies would be lacking. You finished up with a startling rendition of Gypsies Tramps and Thieves before you both passed out cold.”

Suddenly a long-haired, bearded face appeared through the open door. “My friend Kryten! Thou must come and see! Butler hath made a perfect likeness of the Cat out of nothing but grilled bread! It is truly astounding!”

Kryten’s face practically folded in on itself as he frowned. “Now if you’ll excuse me, sirs. I’m afraid that I may be about to accidentally commit first degree toastercide!”

Lister muttered, “Lock,” as Kryten’s angry footfalls faded away and popped his empty glass into one of the bunk cubbies. “Well there’s our answer then. Sorry to disappoint you, Rimmer, but you are NOT the father.”

Rimmer tossed the black wig to the floor where it lay sadly like a flattened cat. “So we didn’t have sex at all then?”

“Guess not.”

"We just sang some terrible songs together while wearing some silly costumes?"

"Seems so."

Rimmer was quiet for a minute then he gazed across at Lister doubtfully. “So there was no rutting together?”

“Apparently not.”

“No living out our most depraved and salacious sexual fantasies?”

“Don’t think so.”

“No bringing one another to a plane of unspeakable ecstasy?”

“Rimmer, man.” Lister’s face split into a wide grin. “Are you disappointed?”

The hologram’s cheeks reddened as he sputtered in response. “What? Disappointed? Of course not! I just… I just thought…”

“You are aren’t you? You’d thought we’d had a wild night, and done loads of filthy stuff together, and now that you find out we haven’t, you’re put out.”

“I’m not put out, Lister. I’m merely…” The hologram grew quiet.

“Merely what?”

“I don’t know, Lister! I’ve got a splitting headache and I apparently spent all night dressed up as Cher, so please forgive me if I’m not at my most lucid right now!” The hologram crossed his arms over his chest as he pouted.

“Well you know what I think?” Lister asked as he cocked an eyebrow at Rimmer.

“No Lister, what do you think?”

“I think...” Lister trailed off as he ducked under the duvet.

“What? What are you doing?” Rimmer’s voice squeaked in alarm as Lister wormed his way between his legs, rubbing his torso up against the enormous erection that Rimmer had been concealing all morning. “Oh… oh god.”

“I think,” Lister repeated as his head popped out from the other end of the duvet, his lips teasingly close to Rimmer’s morning wood. “That you could use a hangover cure one of my ex’s taught me.” He slipped back under the covers, and Rimmer sank back into the mattress as a pair of soft lips nuzzled at him.

In the sleeping quarters next door, Jesus of Caesarea suddenly looked up from his breakfast in confusion. “I really must lay off that bark,” he muttered as he scooped some beans up with his toast. “I could swear I hear someone screaming out my name.”


End file.
